Just a Drop Will Do
by LittleTee
Summary: What if Merope Gaunt hadn't secretly spiked Tom Riddle with a love potion or used the Imperius Curse on him? What if she used a potion on herself? A potion that had been promised to be not just any ordinary love potion but one that could bring about love... One-shot. Written for Alchemy assignment 7 on HSWW.


**Summary:** What if Merope Gaunt hadn't secretly spiked Tom Riddle with a love potion or used the Imperius Curse on him? What if she used a potion on herself? A potion that had been promised to be not just any ordinary love potion but one that could bring about love... Written for Alchemy assignment 7 on HSWW.

 **Disclaimer:** The Wizarding World of Harry Potter does not belong to LittleTee, (who shall henceforth be referred to as "The Author.") While the plot of this fanfiction, (henceforth to be referred to as the "Story,") is of The Author's creation, neither the characters nor the locations therein belong to The Author, as they belong to JK Rowling, with the exception of any characters or locations within this Story which have no representation in cannon-these original characters and locations are the property of The Author. This is a work of fiction produced for the single purpose of entertaining fans of Harry Potter, and no Copyright infringement is intended.

 **Submission for:** Alchemy - Assignment 7.

 **Task:** _You're task this week is to write a tragedy about someone who does something or has done something that is potentially dangerous to themselves or others. You may have a happy ending or a tragic one, it is entirely up to you as long as the story as a whole can be considered tragic._

 **Word Count:** 1,421

* * *

 **oooOOOooo**

Merope Gaunt lowered her tattered hood and quickly scan the small secluded area that was several acres down from the hovel she had had the misfortune to have been born in. Seeing no one about she closed her eyes as she slowly, carefully made a circle. She worried her lip, anxious that one small misstep would ruin it. She didn't know how long her father and brother would be kept for. The Aurors, who had appeared and carried them away, seemed convinced that they would be in Azkaban for the rest of the lives. Although, she did not know if that had been realistic of the Aurors to promise. Surely, wouldn't there be a trial before sentencing was made?

She didn't know. Having only been able to attend Hogwarts while her mother yet lived. Being forced to withdraw from classes and tend to her father and brother. She often wondered if her mother's premature death wasn't hurried or caused by her father. He was not the most tender or considerate of wizards. Not like her Tom. He was a true man. One that would never yell or hurt her if she accidentally spilled some food.

She shook herself out of her inner rumblings and began summoning the wizard that might be able to help her. She had heard from her mother that this wizard was Dark, powerful and would work for a strange fee. Something he would deem to be a good price and then the deal would be made if both parties agreed. How old he was no one knew, but it was rumored that he was as old as Hogwarts.

"You rang?"

Merope screamed as she spun around to face the source of the unsettling high masculine voice that whispered in her ear.

"Who - who are you?" she waited a beat, refusing to take a step back from him even though every fiber of her being screamed at her to do so, "are you _him_? The him I summoned?"

His wild eyes danced ominously in the moonlight before he bowed, "I am he. What is it you want, dearie?"

"A potion. A potion that can help someone fall in love with me."

"A love potion then?"

"No. Not a love potion. I want him to love me, not make him love me."

"As you wish, but the latter is considerably easier to achieve," he remarked, shrugging, before twisting his wrist in a fluid motion. A moderate sized vial connected to a chain now dangled from his fingers. Illuminated by the full moon.

She reached for it and he moved his hand away. Moving his finger back and forth.

"Not yet. I believe you owe my something in return."

"I don't have much money," she finally admitted reaching into her pocket and bringing out the small tuppence she had managed to earn in her young years. All the silver she had. "but I am willing to give you all I do have."

He waved off her offer. "Money I don't need. I can make my own. . . What I want is something more precious than gold or _silver_."

She gulped, "My virtue?"

He laughed and shook his head. "No I do not want _you_ , dearie. No offence."

"Then what?"

"That pendant."

Her hand touched her pendant. The small silver asklepian was warm to her fingers. It had been fashioned entirely of silver, save the eyes. They had been cut from a emerald. One rumored to have been from Salazar's own wand handle.

"Well?" he pushed as he dangled the small vial between his glittering fingers, "What will it be? I haven't have all night, dearie."

She studied him as she continued to toy with her pendant. His skin had an unhealthy and unnatural tint to it. His movements reminded her of the old legends of fairy princes who had tricked mortal women or deceived them onto death. She knew he couldn't be trusted, but she had been the one to summon him. She knew that she would have to agree to a deal. Wasn't Tom worth it? To save him from that Muggle gold-digger?

"Deal."

"Excellent," he purred as he snapped his fingers. Switching the vial of potion for the pendant.

Merope tried to ignore the feeling of loss as she held the vial for the first time. The glass seemed to come to life in her hand.

"One drop," he began, the pendant no more in sight, "one drop once every six days. The seventh day you don't take any of the potion."

"Just one drop?" Surely, it required more than that to work.

"Yes, just one drop. Not more. Not less."

"What happens if I take more than a drop?" she asked her curiosity piqued.

"More will give you the opposite of what you desire."

"And, less?"

"The potion becomes like a regular love potion," he paused as he tilted his head, "you will become even more obsessed with him."

"I'm not obsessed," she defended.

"Says the witch who gave over her family's heirloom for a potion to enchant him to love you."

Merope glared at the man but kept her silence. His words did hold truth. Damn him.

 **oOo**

It had been one week since she had gotten the potion. A long week for Merope Gaunt. She found an old book that had been placed under one of the table legs, to keep it from undue rocking. One that taught beauty and cosmetic charms to the reader with a short guide in the back of it that briefly described how to transfigure clothes. Thanks to her luck she now had several dresses and outfits transfigured from suits, shirts and pants from her father's and brother's wardrobe. Her hair was now washed, cut and rolled into a style she saw in a motion picture show that week. She had treated herself when she had gotten word that her father and brother would be staying at Azkaban after all, without hope of a trial anytime soon.

That evening, one week and one day since she acquired the potion, was the night that the Riddle's were hosting a grand dinner party. It was rumored that Tom would be announcing his engagement to that gold-digger during the party. That it was the main reason why the Riddles were hosting it in the first place. It had been the main driving force behind Merope summoning the weird wizard and trading her pendant for the offered potion. She had to save Tom from making a terrible mistake. She had to.

She sighed as she twirled the vial back and forth. Watching the light dance within the dark blue glass.

Tonight was the night.

She uncapped the vial and bit her lip.

If that weird little man was right, only a drop would suffice. Each drop would only last six days, and she would have to wait a whole day before applying another drop. He had been adamant about that. Not eight or twelve or twenty-two hours, but one whole day. Simple enough, she had thought at the time, but now with the anxiety of trying to achieve the improbable to rescue her prince . . . she wondered if she just forget it all. If Tom wanted to marry that, that woman then he was grown. He could.

A strong voice of protest swelled within her. She knew from personal experience that one should marry for love. Not money or family ties. Like her parents had been forced to marry to keep their lines _pure_. Tom must be being pressured to marry that vain and unloving woman. That gold-digger.

Or, is he? Maybe he wants to be with someone like that?

After some minutes of internal debate and indecision she finally called it. She had made the decision to do this when she traded her heritage away. Like the Muggle saying went, she had come this far might as with see it through to the end.

Allowing only one drop to fall onto her tongue. She rapidly closed her mouth and eyes. The liquid was overwhelmingly sweet, and had to force herself to swallow it.

"Tom Riddle," she chanted trice before repeating the words that man had given her, "amor gignit amorem."

She blinked open her eyes and raised a finger to her lips as she felt a heated sensation flow through her veins and encircle her magical core for several seconds before it faded.

 _"For your happiness Tom_ ," she prayed as she took a breath to steady her nerves, " _and mine I do this. Forgive me_."

 _Fini_


End file.
